


Part Of Your World

by duustbunny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU - angel wings are always visible, Alternative First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel’s moments of solitude keep getting interrupted, Destiel with a side of Sabriel, Gabriel is the crab, Gen, M/M, Metatron is the octopus, The Little Mermaid AU, alternative universe, and the fish, and the seagull, between lines from the show and lines from the movie this fic practically wrote itself, completely ignores the fact that Castiel has been watching humanity for ages before meeting Dean, grand total of zero swear words, just kidding it took me ages, lots of flirting, no one is really a sea creature though, really like 84 times at least, wholesome entertainment (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duustbunny/pseuds/duustbunny
Summary: The longer Castiel spends observing humanity, the more he longs to be human.A.K.A. The Little Mermaid AU where Castiel is not really a mermaid and Dean is not really a prince but the plot of the Disney movie is still more or less the same.





	Part Of Your World

**Author's Note:**

> I admit I was tempted to title this The Little Angel but Castiel is the size of the Chrysler building so... no. Anyway, if you know the script of The Little Mermaid by heart like me, this will hopefully get a smile or two out of you. Also borrows iconic lines from the SPN show because this _is_ an alternative first meeting fic after all.

 

The air got progressively chillier as the hunters went deeper into the woods, their breaths visible in foggy puffs when they exhaled, fingers half-numb around the icy metal of their weapons. 

“A slime monster,” the one named Dean said.

“Amikuk,” his brother Sam corrected him.

Dean ignored him. “This,” he waved his hand at nothing in particular, “is what our lives have become. Hunting slime monsters. Seriously.”

“Maybe it’s something else.”

“All the lore points to an Amikuk, Bobby,” Sam insisted.

“ _All the lore_ is one single website of dubious sources, which only vaguely describes these slime monsters and even more vaguely how to find them.”

“And doesn’t mention how to kill them,” Dean added.

“We’ve got at least ten different weapons here,” Sam reminded them. “One has to do the trick.”

“Let us pray to God that one does,” the fourth man in the group, Rufus, said.

“No offense, but in my experience God isn’t much interested in helping hunters.”

“Pray to the angels, then.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Angels, Rufus? Really?”

“They’ve been known to answer prayers on occasion,” Rufus insisted.

“Angels don’t exist.”

“Of course they do!” Rufus argued. “I thought every good hunter knew about them. Fierce warrior race. Halos, harps, feathers...” He spread out his arms in what Dean imagined was supposed to imitate wings. 

“Angels!” Bobby exclaimed, scandalized. “Boys, pay no attention to this fairytale nonsense.”

“But it ain’t nonsense, it’s the truth! I'm telling you, up in heaven they live.” He gestured wildly with his arms-slash-wings until one of them hit a low-hanging branch, provoking a yelp from the hunter.

Dean shook his head. Next to him, his brother was trying to hide a smile behind his long-overdue-for-a-cut curtain of hair.

 

***

 

“Brothers, sisters. Dangerous times are approaching.” 

Hundreds of angels stood motionless in Heaven, waiting in complete silence to receive revelation from the archangels. Michael and Raphael towered over them at the front. It was Michael who was addressing them now, as usual. His voice reached every last angel equally clear.

“The ever present threat of all-out war is now imminent, and we must be prepared. For anything.” Michael started pacing the length of the formation while Raphael remained still. “But this is no time for rashness, no. For now we tread carefully, and we stay alert. We stay ready.” He turned at the end of the first row and continued down the side. “This is our true purpose. To protect what is true, what is pure, what our Father has entrusted us. Danger is rising. You know what is at stake. Do not forget who our enemies are, and who we can have faith in. Because when the time comes, I need you to have faith in me. I need--” He came to an abrupt stop in front of the only hole in the otherwise spotless grid. “Uriel?” he asked, addressing the angel right behind the empty space.

“Yes?”

“Where is Castiel?”

 

***

 

Castiel unlocked the door on the driver’s side of the black car and slid inside, closing it after himself to prevent the evening chill from seeping in. Cars were a slow method of transportation in his opinion, but still one of the most captivating human-made objects. 

There were several items inside this particular car. A cardboard box caught his attention from the floor and he bent down to pick up one of the rectangular objects it contained. The artefact had two holes in it, and through the semi-opaque material he could see some kind of tape coiled inside. He placed it in his pocket for later analysis. He noticed next a plastic bag on the back seat. What could it have inside? He climbed over to the back, socked feet sliding on the leather. The bag was closed with a loose knot, which he undid with ease. A strong smell of burnt chicken flesh wafted up from inside. He reached in and pulled out some kind of spiked tool made of plastic. This required further analysis, too.

Through the corner of his eye he caught a dull shine and turned to examine it. There was a small compartment on the door, the lid partially open, and something was peeking out from inside. Even though it seemed to be stuck, it was easy to pry it loose using his grace. It was... two tiny humans? 

“How you doing, kiddo?”

Castiel almost jumped out of his vessel.

“What are you doing here, Gabriel?” he asked the angel that had just appeared. His brother had a knack for catching him whenever he came down to Earth.

“What do you mean? I’m in my element! Excitement, adventure, danger lurking around every corner...” He patted the floor under the front seat and drew up an L-shaped piece of metal, looping his finger around a protruding semi-circular fragment. “I feel like James Bond. Anyway, what are you doing with this human stuff, huh? Stealing?” He dragged the vowels of the last word, wriggling his eyebrows.

“No!” Castiel hurried to reply. “I just wanted to...” He wasn’t sure if he should tell his brother that he enjoyed taking apart and examining human inventions, though he always made sure to put them back exactly where and how he had found them. Most of the time, anyway. But Gabriel probably knew all that already. Castiel handed him the rectangular item from his pocket in an attempt to change the subject. The tape inside glinted faintly in the moonlight. “Do you know what this is?”

“Lemme see.” Gabriel took the object and turned it in his hand. His eyes glinted much like the tape did. “Ah, this is wonderful! I haven’t seen one of these in _years_. A glorious, genuine...” he glanced at Castiel, the corner of his eyes crinkling with mirth, “...gramophone.”

“Oh.” The name suggested it made some kind of sound. “What is its purpose?”

“Honestly, Cas. You come down here a lot, you even took a vessel this time—probably this very night, since it’s still wearing pajamas—and yet you’re still ignorant of all things human. You need to interact with them more.” Gabriel reclined back on the seat and, putting his finger through one of the holes in the gramophone, started spinning it. “The gramophone dates back to prehistorical times, when humans used to sit around and stare at each other all day. Got very boring.” He seemed disproportionately amused by the facts he was reciting. “So they invented the gramophone to make fine music!” He pinched the accessible section of the tape and pulled. It curled, tangling. “This one’s broken, though.”

Castiel offered him the spiked tool next. “What about this?”

Gabriel laughed as he picked it up from Castiel’s hand. “Oh, this is a... curling iron! Humans use these little babies to curl their hair up. See--” he promptly stuck the curling iron into Castiel’s hair and twisted it. “Just a little twirl here and a yank there and voilà!” He pulled on the tool violently, loosening several hairs off Castiel’s scalp. “You’ve got an aesthetically pleasing configuration of hair that humans go nuts over.”

Castiel thought it was a rather painful way of getting said configuration of hair, and wondered if all humans underwent that torment every day just to look a certain way. So much about humanity was disconcerting, and he only knew a tiny fraction of everything there was to find out about this puzzling species. 

Gabriel snatched the tiny statues from Castiel’s other hand without asking. “Oh, and these!” 

“What are they?”

“They are such a rarity. Humans use them for war. You dunk them in water,” Gabriel explained as he mimicked in the air the motion he was describing, Castiel’s eyes attentively following his movements, “and they grow into actual, full-sized, real soldiers. You know,” he added, tossing the items back to Castiel, “like _you_ are supposed to be.”

Castiel bristled. His brother was right, of course, but Castiel didn’t have to like it. He knew he was supposed to be up in Heaven receiving revelation, but lately all revelation that Michael shared was about an alleged war that everyone, except apparently Castiel, could see coming. “Perhaps I don’t want to be a soldier. Perhaps I’m not meant for that life.”

Gabriel leaned closer to him, still smiling but no longer so gleeful. “And what is the life you are meant for, little brother?”

Oh, if only Castiel had an answer to that question. Not so long ago he had been content serving Heaven, following Michael and Raphael’s orders, but since he started visiting Earth and observing humans he was having... questions. Doubts. Right and wrong weren’t so clearly cut anymore. 

Gabriel seemed to get bored of waiting for an answer. “Well, this is your life for now. And Mikey’s gonna be real pissed if he finds out you’ve been down here again against his orders.” 

Castiel sighed, placing the items in the pockets of his pajamas. Yes, he had better get back. 

 

***

 

“I just don't know what we're going to do with you, Castiel.”

Castiel resisted the urge to outwardly show his irritation at that statement. It was one that he had heard several times in the past few months. With more or fewer words, Michael never failed to let him know when he was displeased with his behavior, a silent Zachariah always behind him like an ugly shadow. 

“If you do not receive revelation, how can you know what the Host needs from you?” his brother continued. “And how can your garrison be effective at all if their commander is without direction? They need your guidance, Castiel, just like you need mine. This only works if each of us fulfills their role. Do you understand?” He didn’t pause for an answer. “You role is to lead your garrison, and you have been neglecting it, neglecting them, for what?”

Castiel kept silent. He couldn’t tell Michael that he had--

“I know you’ve been down on Earth again.”

Oh.

“Castiel, how many times must we go through this? You could have been seen by one of those barbarians... by one of those humans!”

Castiel’s grace boiled in anger. How could Michael talk like that about their Father’s greatest creation? “They are not barbarians, they--”

“They are dangerous. Do you think I want to see one of our fledglings stabbed by some hunter’s knife?”

“I’m a full seraph,” Castiel countered, “not a fledgling anymore.”

“Be careful how you address me, Castiel.” Michael’s tone was suddenly darker. “As long as you are part of the Host, you will obey my rules.”

Castiel’s anger flared even hotter and he did the only thing he could realistically do. He fled. 

“The stench of that Impala is all over his wings,” Zachariah warned in the silence that followed.

Michael sighed. “I know.”

“He is clearly conspiring to hinder our plans.”

“I know.”

“And we cannot allow that.”

“I _know_ ,” Michael replied once again, turning to face Zachariah. “Follow him. Make sure he does not interfere in any way.”

 

***

 

Michael had no right, _no right_ , to keep him confined to Heaven, not when it was the duty of all angels to watch over their Father’s creation. His brother kept insisting that humans were dangerous, that they meant to harm angels, but Castiel just didn’t see how a race that made such wonderful things could be bad. 

He was once again in the same black car from earlier. The world was vast, but this little place that he had found was especially unique. He inhaled the faint smell of old leather and looked around at all the little items and all the little storage spaces that held even more little items. Yes, this place was... nice. He resolved to stay there for as long as he could, before the human owners came back for their vehicle. Maybe he could stay for longer, unseen to the humans, just to watch them for a while and learn more of what life on Earth was like. 

Life in Heaven was not enough for Castiel. It had been, for a long time, but then he snuck out and saw Earth for the first time, saw humans, and he was immediately hooked. His visits were always short—he was still cautious, everything was so new to him—but they had been getting more and more frequent. It was disturbingly easy to get past the gates of Heaven.

That, however, was likely to change from now on. Michael was going to reinforce security at the gates as soon as he found out Castiel was still disobeying his orders. He would probably also have someone follow Castiel at all times to make sure he didn’t get into trouble. He never did, not once so far, and yet Michael would still think Castiel warranted extra sentinels at the gates and his very own chaperone. Castiel didn’t think he was that important himself.

In any case, his escapades were going to get more challenging now, and it was likely he wouldn’t be able to return to Earth for a while. He took the curling iron and the gramophone from his pocket and returned them to the exact places he had found them in, just in case he couldn’t come back later. He hesitated with the soldiers, though. Did human soldiers ever wanted something else for themselves? Something... more? 

“Back so soon, little brother?”

Oh, not _again_. “Gabriel,” he said, his tone a warning for his brother to leave him alone.

Gabriel didn’t, of course. “A true rebel,” he said, patting Castiel’s back like he was proud.

There was nothing to be proud about, though. Castiel’s actions were, if anything, shameful. “I’m not a rebel.”

“Of course you are! Good little angels do what Michael tells them because they don’t want to fall from grace, and yet here you are. _Rebelling._ ” His grin was stretched as wide as his vessel’s face would allow.

“You spend almost all of your time down here among humans.”

“Perks of being an Archangel, Cassie. I don’t have to answer to anyone except Dad, and he’s been AWOL for the past two millennia.”

“I wish I could do what you do,” Castiel said, half to himself, half testing the waters with his brother. “Be a part of this world.”

“Come on, you know the seaweed is always greener in somebody else's lake.”

“Anael did it,” Castiel continued, emboldened. “She chose to excise her own grace to live among humans.”

Gabriel’s practically perpetual grin disappeared. “Castiel--”

A loud bang cut through the air, startling them both. Castiel had never heard anything like it before. It wasn’t thunder, or a falling tree. He got out of the car and headed in the direction of the sound, curious to see what had caused it. 

Gabriel, predictably, followed him. “Where are you going?”

Castiel just quickened his pace.

“Oohhh, I get it,” his brother stage-whispered, hurrying to keep up. “We’re being _intrepidatious!_. We’re out to discover--”

“Shut up.”

 

***

 

Dean’s legs burned with exertion and there was a pang in his side from gulping down the frosty air, but he kept running as fast as his body allowed him, Rufus following several yards behind him. The shot that resonated through the forest could only mean one thing – Sam and Bobby had found the Amikuk. 

“Dean, wait up!” 

Dean didn’t, of course. Splitting up had been a bad idea. Now his brother was out there with a monster that they didn’t know how to kill and anything could happen. He ran even faster.

The sight that met him at the clearing stopped his gasping breaths short. Sam and Bobby were lying on the ground, immobile and covered in the thick, cloudy goo that the monster oozed everywhere as if it were molting. The earth was vibrating with a low thumping sound, barely audible under the rush of blood in Dean’s ears. He drew his gun, loaded with regular bullets, and took a step toward his brother and his friend. 

The earth shook violently then, as the Amikuk sprouted from among the soil and leaves right next to Sam and Bobby. The creature was horrendous, fouler than the scant lore described. It was completely covered in slime, even the heavy, matted cords that made up its mane and the radioactively green eyes that looked about to pop off its head. In less than a second it was crawling over Sam, mouth open wide, and Dean wasted no time. He aimed his gun with a sure grip, no hesitation despite his brother’s proximity to the monster, and pulled the trigger. 

The Amikuk contorted in pain when the bullet hit it, letting out a nails-dragging-over-a-blackboard cry that echoed around the trees. Dean aimed his gun again to take another shot but quick as lightning the creature dove back under, causing the ground to thump once more as it swam away. 

“Goddamned slime monster,” he heard Rufus mutter as the man ran past him toward Bobby.

Dean followed him, making a beeline toward his brother. Sam was unconscious, but his chest was rising and falling steadily. Dean’s knees buckled with relief and he fell down next to Sam, reaching out to wipe slime off his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rufus rolling Bobby onto his back. He, too, was breathing.

“D-Dean?”

“Hey, Sammy. It’s fine, you’re okay.”

“The... Amikuk...” 

“It’s gone. You’re safe.”

“No,” Sam breathed out, muscles shaking with the effort of trying to sit up.

“Stay down, Sam. Take it easy.”

“Dean, we h-have to stop it.”

“You can’t go anywhere like this.”

“Dean.”

“I can’t leave you, Sammy.”

“Please, Dean. We can’t let it get away, not when we’re so close.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. You stay here with Rufus and Bobby, though.”

“I can--”

“No. You stay here, I’ll go.”

Dean waited for his brother to slump back down, admitting defeat, then stood up and, with a glance at Bobby to make sure the man was all right too, sprinted off to follow the thumping sound.

 

***

 

Castiel came to a stop at the edge of the forest, Gabriel grabbing his shoulder to avoid bumping into him. By the side of the road, a human man was aiming an object at an Amikuk. The object was making more of those loud explosions and the Amikuk was crying out, angry at having projectiles thrown at it. It was rare for an Amikuk to come so far south, so Castiel guessed it had probably been cast out of its pack. 

The Amikuk grabbed the man with its long extremities and threw him against the trunk of a tree. The man struggled to get up, weak from the hit. His short hair was caked with mud and bits of rotting leaves, and blood trickled down from a cut above his eyebrow, making him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to wipe it away. 

“I've never seen a green-eyed one before,” Castiel confessed to his brother in a whisper. “He's very... handsome, isn't he?” 

The Amikuk grabbed the man by his shirt, lifting him up with ease, and slammed him hard into the tree.

“I dunno,” Gabriel replied. “He looks kinda wrinkly and slobbery to me.”

“No, not that one. The one with the... the...” He made a gesture indicating the metal object in the man’s hand.

“Nerf gun?”

The Amikuk slammed the human once more against the tree, making the man’s head hit the bark hard. The human’s eyes rolled back into his head and his hand opened, letting the gun slide out of his grasp. Castiel gasped. The Amikuk was about to kill the human, and Castiel was going to witness it all. He wasn’t supposed to interfere, but he couldn’t just watch the man die and do nothing. There was a time when he could have, yes, but not anymore. He stepped out of the trees and used his grace to shove the Amikuk away from the human, forcefully enough to fling it to the other side of the road. 

Castiel was incensed, furious that this creature would come into foreign territory and attack humans. It was Castiel’s right-- no, Castiel’s _duty_ to prevent that. In a second he was standing next to the Amikuk and, placing two fingers on what passed for its forehead, wiped it out of existence in a blaze of grace. 

Once the light scattered, Castiel looked across the road. Both Gabriel (hidden amid the foliage) and the human (slumped against a tree) were watching at him with wide eyes. An unfamiliar feeling filled Castiel’s whole body, triggering his fight-or-flight reflex. The fight was over, so he had only one option left – he fled, unaware that there was a third pair of eyes watching him.

 

***

 

“Dude, you’d better clean Baby’s leather tomorrow.” 

“You made me sit on three towels, Dean.”

Dean unlocked their motel room and went inside, not bothering to hold the door for Sam. “The towels touched the seat. You slime it, you clean it.” 

“You’re obsessed--”

“Speaking of cleaning, you need a shower like _yesterday_. Take your clothes off before you get in the bathroom, I don’t need to slip on slime when taking a piss.” 

“Okay,” Sam agreed as he attempted to undo his slippery belt with slippery fingers, “but first you tell me how you really ganked the Amikuk.” 

“What do you mean? I told you, I shot it in the head.” 

“I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Bobby and Rufus in case... I don’t know. But the website said others had tried shooting them even in the head and it never worked.”

“The website is wrong, then,” Dean sentenced, ejecting the clip from his gun and setting about cleaning it. He was starting to regret not calling first shower. As he pulled the oil from his duffel, the whole scene played again in his mind. The flash of white lightning was dimmed in his memory, the brightness of it impossible to reproduce even in thought. He had closed his eyes to shield them and, when he had opened them again, there was a winged figure standing across the road. It was blurry and dark in the remaining glow, but his eyes stood out like beacons, alight and impossibly blue. In the instant it took Dean to blink, the figure had disappeared. 

By the time Sam made it out of the bathroom, Dean had finished with the cleanup and was sitting on the curb outside their room, mind still going in circles around the flash of lightning and the mysterious figure that arose from it. The lightbulb of their room flooded the hallway in yellow light when Sam opened the door and stepped outside. 

“Why the brooding, Dean? Thinking about quitting the life?” he asked jokingly, apparently trying to lighten up a perceived dark mood. It had no effect. 

“No, Sammy, that’s you. Stop projecting.” 

Sam sighed and bent his long legs to sit beside him. “Guilty as charged,” he confessed. He sounded like he was still joking but Dean knew better. “You know, you might change your mind too, someday. If you find the right girl.” 

Dean snorted. “Right. You still have delusions about that. I don’t understand how you can believe I have any chance at an apple pie life. With the way we live, even if I found the right girl I probably wouldn’t even notice. Hell, I could already have met her and never know.” 

Sam’s lips quirked in a sad little smile. “Believe me, Dean, when you find her, you'll know. Without a doubt. It'll just...” he made a sudden gesture with his arm, “bam! Hit you. Like lightning.”

 

***

 

Castiel huffed and dropped to sit on a rock at the bottom of a waterfall in Eden, the tips of his wings dipping into the whirling water. The deafening noise did nothing to help ease the feeling of apprehension that consumed him. Why had he intervened? Killing an Amikuk, exposing himself... Yes, he had toyed with the idea of perhaps initiating some sort of interaction with humans at some point, but it was only a thought, not meant to ever become reality. He dropped his head in his hands, thoughts reluctantly skirting over the possible consequences of his actions if his mistake ever became known. Michael’s wrath, the Host’s rejection, possible imprisonment.... And the human who had seen him was sure to be the target of one of Michael’s “precautionary measures” too, even though he was innocent, just a passerby trying to defend himself from the attack of a rogue Amikuk, never having asked for Castiel’s dooming intervention. 

“Ah, Castiel. Contemplating humanity again?” 

Castiel stiffened at the voice, sitting upright. “Metatron.” He was not fond of the scribe. 

“A puzzling species, right?” 

“They are our Father’s most treasured creation.” 

“Hm.”

“And yet their lives are so fleeting.” 

Metatron sat down on the same rock Castiel was on, a little closer than Castiel preferred. “That has its merit. The deadline they feel they have on their lives makes them act with a, shall we say, _refreshing_ urgency.” 

“It must be exhausting, the constant fear of the passage of time.” 

“Those poor unfortunate souls. And yet they are happy, which is more than can be said about you at the moment.” 

Castiel nodded. “I fear I have made a terrible mistake.” 

“How terrible, exactly?” 

“I have put someone in danger. I would give anything to be able to help him.” 

Metatron smiled. It looked unpleasant. “I see. What’s stopping you?” 

Castiel sighed. What could he do? Show up at the human’s doorstep and offer to keep him safe? He knew he could never stand alone against Michael and the rest of the Host, and yet he wanted nothing more than to be next to the human now, to at least _try_ to protect him. Would the man even want that, though? Even if he didn’t know about the impending danger, would he want to interact with Castiel at all? 

Metatron surely possessed extensive knowledge about humanity, Castiel thought, obtained directly from their Father; he probably understood them better than Gabriel, even. “Do humans have rules regarding encounters with angels?” he asked aloud.

“Such encounters are rare, but they’ve been known to happen. You and I know that Gabriel, for example, has done it more than a few times. And in the past some angels have shown themselves to humans who prayed for our favor. Michael is against it, but humans are more accepting of such things, more welcoming.”

The pang of discontent that Castiel had been feeling lately at his life in general burned brighter in his chest. “Michael says they have hunters who kill anyone who isn’t a human. That they fear us and mean us harm.”

Metatron’s smile widened. “Well, of course, hunters are a very real threat to us. Why do you ask? Are you thinking about keeping a closer watch on the human you got in trouble?” 

Castiel’s eyes widened. He had said too much and revealed himself. 

“Don’t worry, dear, I won’t tell anyone your little secret.” Metatron leaned in closer. “ _Our_ little secret. But you must be very careful. You can’t just pop down and risk being seen by a hunter. They would take one look at your wings and decide you’re public enemy number one.” 

Despite himself, Castiel leaned in closer too. His voice dropped to a whisper even though they were alone. “Do you know how I can hide them? My wings?” 

“Well, you can’t.” 

Castiel’s hope crashed in the pit of his stomach. “I wanted so much to help him, to keep him safe.” 

“You can.” 

Castiel hesitated. He had a feeling the consequences of whatever Metatron was about to suggest could be dire. Then again, he had already changed his life irrevocably by revealing himself to the green-eyed human. He took a deep breath as if the air contained the courage he desperately needed. “How?” 

“The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.” 

Castiel jumped to his feet instinctively, ashamed at having his fantasies voiced aloud by Metatron of all angels. “Do not speak to me of that again.” 

“Well, you asked.” Metatron stood too, but without urgency. “I thought you wanted to help your human. Maybe you didn’t want it as badly as I thought. It’s okay, no judgment. Come on, sit down, loosen up that knot in your panties.” He sat back down, pulling on Castiel’s arm. Castiel went down with him, distracted. “I know lately you’ve been feeling, ah, disappointed with your life,” Metatron continued. “Like you don’t quite fit in. You watch humanity and see how they don’t have their lives decided for them like you do, how they have a freedom you will never know as long as you are a seraph. And it is true. They have no pointless rules, no one that forces them to fulfil duties they don’t care about. They can learn and explore and be free. And that’s what you want, too.”

Castiel closed his eyes against the truths Metatron was speaking. “I am an angel.” 

“But you don’t have to be. Not if you don’t want to.” 

Was it really possible? Anael had done it. Why couldn’t Castiel, too? But even if he hated his life as an angel, it was possible he wouldn’t like being a human, either. Gabriel had suggested that perhaps he wanted to be human just because he wasn’t. What if once he was human he wanted to be an angel again? He would not only be unhappy with his life once more but this time he would also be alone, cut off from the Host. “If I become human, I'll never be with my brothers and sisters again.”

Metatron extended an arm over Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him in. “Life’s full of tough choices, isn’t it? Tell you what. How about a free tree-day trial?” 

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Can you do that?” 

“My dear, sweet Castiel. Of course I can! It’s actually pretty simple. We temporarily remove your grace so that you can go and check out what it’s actually like to be human, help your man too while you’re at it, frolic to your heart’s content... everything you want for three days. Three sunsets if you will. And then if you decide it’s not for you, you can just come back up and get your grace back. Or,” he added, winking, “maybe you’ll decide it’s just the life you want and stay down there.”

It _was_ simple, Castiel thought. No risk. He could protect the green-eyed man until the danger of his mistake being found out by Michael had passed, and in the meantime fulfill his dream of knowing what it was like to be human. If he found it didn’t suit him, all he had to do was come back to Heaven and he’d have his grace back. By then the danger would have passed and everything would be back to normal, and he could be satisfied that he was living the life he truly wanted. “Will temporarily removing my grace make me human?” he asked, to be sure.

Metatron patted his shoulder. “Human enough.” 

 

***

 

The sun was low in the sky by the time Castiel went back to the forest, shadows long and restless in the twilight. There was no sign of the humans or their car from the previous night. He was alone, body trembling against the evening chill, a reaction that was completely new to him. Feelings and sensations were incredibly stronger without his grace. It was all very exciting.

“Cas, my man!” 

Castiel jumped, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there anymore. 

“Look at you, little brother!” Gabriel exclaimed, placing one hand on each of Castiel’s shoulders. “I thought I’d never see you again down here after that fiasco with the Amikuk. But here you are, frowny as ever. There’s something different, though. Don’t tell me – I got it. It’s your hairdo, right? You’ve been using the curling iron!” 

“I’m human.” 

“Your hair looks so much-- wait, what?” The smile was gone from Gabriel’s face in an instant.

“I’m human,” Castiel repeated, feeling something hot compressing the inside of his chest at the admission.

“Castiel...” Gabriel looked heartbroken, there was no other word for it. 

Castiel hurried to explain. “It’s only temporary. A special spell that allows me to be human for a while —three days— and then go back to being an angel.” _If I want,_ he didn’t add. 

“Oh, brother, what have you done?”

“My grace is safe. It’s being guarded by another angel in Heaven.” 

“And do you trust this other angel?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, because what else could he say?

Gabriel nodded. He still looked unconvinced, but at least no longer quite so distraught. “I’m guessing you did this because you want to keep a closer eye on that human of yours for a few days, right?” 

“He’s not _my_ human,” Castiel argued. His face felt hot. 

“Whatever. Remind me to teach you about condoms just in case. Anyway, if you wanna be a human the first thing you gotta do is dress like one.” He stepped back from Castiel, looking him up and down. “Now lemme see...” 

With a snap of his brother’s fingers Castiel found himself clad in an oversized trenchcoat, pajamas underneath gone and replaced by a suit, shirt and tie, and... yes, definitely underwear too. Even shoes and socks.

Gabriel whistled. “Ready to break hearts, little brother? I gotta say, the tax accountant look fits you to a T.” 

“The what?” 

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn about taxes soon enough. Now, do you want to find your human or not?”

 

***

 

Dean was a master at balancing a stack of pizzas in one hand while opening Baby’s door with the other. He placed the pizzas next to him on the front seat and turned the ignition key. When he switched on the headlights, a figure became visible at the edge of the parking lot. Dean’s hand flew to his gun. The man didn’t make any move, though; he just stood there looking at Dean. It was like he was waiting for something specific, but at the same time he looked lost. Could be a trap, but could also be a man in need. 

Dean quickly gathered some supplies and exited the car. “Hey.” 

The man didn’t reply.

Careful, Dean approached him. From up close he looked vaguely familiar; maybe Dean had seen him the day before when they arrived into town. “You okay?” 

“I...”

His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in a while. Dean pulled a flask out of his jacket and offered it to him. “You sound like you need some water.” Holy water, of course. 

The stranger reached out and took it, gulping it down faster than a man lost in the desert. No screams, no sizzling sounds, so definitely not a demon. Dean pulled out a silver fork next, mind racing for an excuse for this particular test. The man finished the flask and re-capped it, catching sight of the fork and looking thoughtfully between it and Dean’s face. Dean offered it to him, mouth opening to utter a request he hadn’t thought up yet, but before he could say anything the other man was already taking it with one hand, giving back the flask with the other. 

Dean stood there speechless, taking the proffered flask automatically. He put it back in the inner pocket of his jacket and, when he looked back up, the other man was running the fork through his hair like a comb. _What. The. Hell?_

The man caught Dean’s look and hastily stopped what he was doing. “I apologize.” 

“Right. Uh. You’ve got any family or friends in town? I can give you a ride if you need.”

“Not in town, no.” 

Dean’s heart went out to him. A man with either mental disabilities or perhaps a hit to the head, confused and lost and alone at night, was easy prey for monsters both supernatural and human. “My brother and I are staying in a motel nearby. You’ve got any money or cards with you?” 

The man checked all his pockets under Dean’s dumbfounded stare. “No,” he finally declared. 

“I guess I... I mean, I guess you could crash with me and Sam.” The words left Dean’s mouth with a will of their own. Damn. Sam would be royally pissed, and with reason. That is, if this strange man didn’t kill Dean first and make off with his car. But there was something about him that made Dean instinctively trust him for some reason. Something in his eyes. 

The horizon lit up with lightning for a moment and a second later a thunder roared in the distance. The man made a face at the noise and promptly replied, “I would very much appreciate that.” 

Why did he have to accept Dean’s stupid, stupid offer? Now Dean had to actually go through with it. “Yeah. It’s late. Tomorrow we can find you a shelter home or something. Plus I think I got one too many pizzas and we don’t have a fridge. It’d be a shame to let them go to waste, right?”

The man nodded, but the expression on his face said he had no idea what Dean was talking about.

“Right. Come on, get in the car. Pizzas are getting cold and we don’t have a microwave either.”

 

***

 

Metatron was almost finished crushing the Nephilim’s heart into a bloody paste. As he worked the mortar, the vial that dangled from a chain around his neck clinked against the buttons of his shirt. It shone with Castiel’s grace swirling inside it, casting a bluish glow on everything in its immediate vicinity. 

He put the Cupid’s bow inside the mortar and crushed that too, mixing it with the heart as he hummed a cheerful tune. He was clearly not aware that there was someone behind him. 

Zachariah wasted no more time. Just as Metatron was raising up his hand to grab the vial, he pushed his blade smoothly into the other angel’s spine until its point came out on the other side, right over his heart.

Metatron’s moving hand hit the blade protruding through his chest and he barely had time to look down before his own grace burst out of his body, flooding the room before fading out from existence. 

His body dropped to the floor and Zachariah bent down to retrieve the chain from the corpse’s neck.

“Nothing happens up here without me knowing about it,” he said to the empty vessel at his feet.

 

***

 

“I’m Dean, by the way.” 

Castiel turned his head to look at him. The man had his eyes fixed on the road ahead, hands resting on the wheel as he held the car on a steady course.

“Dean,” Castiel repeated, tasting the word.

“What’s your name?”

He hesitated. Was his own name human enough not to raise any suspicions? Metatron had said he was now human enough that nobody would know the difference, but he was still nervous. If Dean caught on, Castiel might have to run back to Heaven and he didn’t want to do that just yet. 

“Cat got your tongue? I can try guessing if you want. Is your name... Mike?” 

Castiel pulled a face at the suggestion. 

“Okay, no. How about Bob?” 

This was pointless. There were thousands of human names. Dean could recite them all and never say Castiel’s. 

“Castiel?” 

Castiel started. Oh, right, this had to be Gabriel’s doing. Of course his brother was watching him now and sticking his grace where it wasn’t welcome. Castiel felt his ears grow hot. “Yes. That is my name.” 

“Oh.” Dean looked surprised for a moment, but then shook his head and grinned. “I’m awesome. This is like Rumpelstiltskin.” 

Castiel was about to ask what that was when the car came to a stop in front of a building and Dean shut the engine off, grabbing the food boxes that were sitting between them before getting out. Castiel followed him. 

“Look, Cas-- can I call you Cas?” He didn’t wait for Castiel’s reply. “Can you wait out here for a second? I gotta warn Sam first.” 

Castiel nodded. Dean turned around and got inside a room on the ground floor. The window curtain was slightly ajar so Castiel could see inside. He watched Dean place the boxes on a table as another man came into view. 

Out of the corner of his eye Castiel saw someone approaching. He wasn’t surprised to see his brother this time, but he was worried Sam and Dean might see him. 

“Don’t worry, they can’t. So how’s the courtship going?” Gabriel turned to peer through the window. “Oohh, there’s two of them now! Don’t be greedy, Cassie, share with your brother. The tall one looks like he could take on an archangel.” 

Castiel sighed, steeling himself. “Courtship?”

“I thought you traded your grace for three days as a human so you could court Mr. Green Eyes?” 

“No, I--” he cut himself short. “How do you court a human?”

“Jeez, man, I’m surrounded by amateurs! Courting a human is actually easy-peasy, little brother. First, you’ve got to create the mood.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly there was music playing, red flower petals covering the asphalt floor around them, a plush four-poster bed with lavish covers and at least a dozen pillows on it standing right there in the middle of the parking lot. “You know, a little _romantic stimulation_.” 

Castiel glanced quickly at the window, but the human brothers were distracted in conversation. 

“And then you gotta make him wanna kiss you,” Gabriel continued. 

Castiel did a double take. “How do I do that?” 

Gabriel grinned. “You gotta bat your eyes like this.” He demonstrated, eyelashes fluttering quickly. “You gotta pucker up your lips like this--”

The door suddenly opened and in the blink of an eye Gabriel was gone, along with the music, the petals and the bed. The parking lot was quiet once again. 

“Huh, I thought I heard music,” Dean said as he stepped out. “I hope the neighbors don’t keep us up all night. Anyway, Sam says it’s okay for you to stay the night. Get in before he eats all the pizza.” He opened the door wider in invitation. 

Castiel went inside.

 

***

 

The air was crisp with imminent rain as they walked along the tree patch behind the motel. Castiel wrapped the trenchcoat tighter around his body, feeling it press against his full belly. 

“I’m telling you, that was the best pizza I’ve had south of the seventy six.” 

Castiel hummed in agreement, even though he only understood half of what Dean had said. The meal had indeed been delicious. Not that he had anything to compare it to. 

“So. What brings you to this godforsaken town?”

Castiel looked at him, but Dean seemed to be fishing for a random topic, not actually interrogating him because he had suspicions. “I was looking for someone,” Castiel replied. 

“You found them?” 

“Yes.”

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“I dunno. I’m trying to make some conversation here, help me out.” 

“Oh. I apologize. My people skills are... rusty.” 

Dean smiled. “I noticed. You’re all right, though. Decent guy. Not many of those left anymore.” 

“What happened to them?” 

Dean laughed out loud this time. “Good question. I guess... I guess life just wears you down like that. There’s only so many hits you can take before you start to deal them out yourself, you know? But you seem different. Like you haven’t lived on this Earth for as long as the rest of us. How old are you, anyway?” 

“Not too old,” Castiel replied, trying to deflect the question. ‘Older than humanity’ was probably not an appropriate answer. 

Dean laughed again. The sound made Castiel’s heart swell with joy, and he found himself smiling back. “Not too old, huh?” Dean teased. “Well, you look good for your age.” He leaned in and bumped their shoulders together, and a shiver ran down Castiel’s spine at the contact. He was grinning so wide his teeth were showing, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

Something small and red passed in front of Castiel’s eyes. Then again. And again. Flower petals were literally raining down upon them. He glanced quickly at Dean, but the display seemed to be for Castiel’s eyes only.

“What do you do for a living?” the human asked, unaware of Gabriel’s annoying little ‘romantic stimulation’. “TV star? Advertisement model?” 

Castiel started to wonder if humans had soldiers, if Dean would understand, but quickly cut that thought short. Of course they did. He stuck his hand in the pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out the little plastic soldiers. 

“Oh, those!” Dean exclaimed, taking them from Castiel’s hand. He didn’t seem to be angry, though. “They’ve been stuck forever into the ashtray. How did you get them out? I didn’t even see you. Thank you.” 

Castiel watched Dean as the man examined the little statues in his hand. “What do _you_ do for a living?” Castiel asked, thinking maybe he should also contribute some questions to the conversation. 

“I hunt,” Dean replied automatically. 

Castiel was about to ask what exactly he hunted when realization struck him.

Dean was a hunter. He had been hunting the Amikuk that afternoon in the forest.

All air left Castiel’s lungs in a rush.

_Dean was a hunter._

 

***

 

“As we suspected,” Zachariah said, “Castiel is indeed involved with the Winchesters.”

Michael banged his fist on the table in front of him. Zachariah didn’t flinch.

“He’s sharing a motel room with them as we speak,” he continued. “However, he’s a negligible threat, considering he’s human now.”

That gave Michael pause. “Human?”

“Oh yes. Metatron’s doing. He meant to perform a ritual--” 

“To close the gates and expel us all from Heaven.”

“You knew?”

“I knew he was thinking about it. Never thought he’d actually get any angel to give up their grace. I trust you’ve dealt with him and retrieved Castiel’s grace, judging by the vial hanging from your neck?” 

Zachariah inclined his head in assent. “Castiel is much more foolish than we thought, it seems. All the more reason why he poses no risk to our plans.”

“On the contrary, there’s nothing more dangerous than a foolish angel, with or without his grace. And Castiel in particular is foolish enough to think he can stand up to me and actually make a difference. He can’t, of course, but I don’t want any bumps on the road and he’s already involved himself with the Winchesters in a matter of hours.” He paused, considering. “No, it’s better to just rip the weed out by the root before they poison the entire orchard. We need to neutralize this threat as soon as possible.”

Zachariah smirked. “I understand.”

 

***

 

Castiel blinked his eyes open, feeling disoriented. Sleeping was an enjoyable experience; waking up, not so much. It was as he was rubbing his eyes to clear them that he remembered where he was, and how he had got there. 

The bed under him was warm and dipped to the side where Dean was lying, eyes closed, presumably still asleep. A few feet further, on the other bed, Sam was lying with his eyes closed too. Early morning light seeped in through the gap between the curtains. The air was warm and stuffy. 

Things had been awkward last night after Castiel’s realization. He tried to fake calmness, like his life wasn’t in danger from the very man he thought he had to protect, but it was clear that Dean had noticed something was amiss. They had quickly gone to bed afterwards, Dean offering (reluctantly, in Castiel’s opinion) to share his bed since Sam was already sleeping in the other one. Castiel had donned a borrowed T-shirt of Dean’s as pajamas and gone to bed in silence while Dean went into the bathroom. Worry was eating at his chest –would Dean figure it all out if Castiel just left? Would he hunt him down? Could he figure out a way to infiltrate Heaven?– but exhaustion won out and he was asleep before Dean came back.

How could he have been so foolish? Putting himself in danger like that—not just himself, but the entire Host. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the secret for long. Dean already suspected something was up, not to mention that one of Castiel’s three sunsets was over already. But if he left now, wouldn’t that be worse? 

‘Human enough’, Metatron had said. Enough to fool a hunter? 

There was an urgent pressure in Castiel’s bladder, which he imagined meant he had to urinate. He got up as quietly as possible and locked himself in the bathroom, hoping this wouldn’t be too complicated to figure out. Turned out it wasn’t, and thank his Father for small mercies because he really didn’t want to have to call his brother. Gabriel always tried to help him (despite how incomprehensible most of his advice was) but right now he was the last angel Castiel wanted to see, short of Michael and Zachariah. He didn’t think he could face him now, with guilt and shame so heavy in his heart. Gabriel would be so disappointed. 

He left the bathroom to find the human brothers still asleep. He needed some air, needed to think. He took off the borrowed T-shirt and put on his own pants. The salt that Dean had laid in a line at the threshold scattered when Castiel opened the door. The floor tiles and chilly post-rain air were unforgiving on his naked torso and feet, but he opted against going back inside for more clothes. 

He walked toward the tree patch behind the building, mind somehow both racing and empty at the same time, something he had never experienced as an angel. He felt lost and alone, even though the wet grass under him was buzzing with life. He bent down to observe a bee circling a small flower. As a human, he could not communicate with nature like he could as an angel. When he reached out a finger to graze it lightly against the bee, a shadow darkened the space in front of him. He looked up to see Zachariah’s vessel staring down at him, wings tucked close to his back. From his neck hung a small, glowing vial, just like the one Metatron had used to store Castiel’s grace in.

This was bad.

“Well, well,” the other angel said, lips slanted in a half-smile. “Your little ploy is over, Castiel.” 

Castiel stood up and took a step back, unsure what to do. Michael had found out what he was up to and had sent his psychotic minion to kill Dean. And despite what Dean was, what he would do to Castiel if he knew Castiel was – _had been_ – an angel, he still wanted to keep the human safe. 

“You had to know we wouldn’t let you do this,” Zachariah continued, and Castiel almost rolled his eyes because yes, he had known, but that hadn’t stopped him. “The apocalypse _will_ happen.”

Wait-- “What?”

“Everything is under way. Nothing, _no-one_ can stop it now. I always knew you were too full of yourself but thinking you could outsmart Michael? Really, Castiel?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Zachariah barked a short laugh. “Right. You know, that innocent façade that you put on for everybody doesn’t fool _me_.” He flicked his wrist and a blade dropped into his hand. “And it won’t fool anyone anymore.” 

Castiel jumped back and threw his hands up in front of him in an instinctive but useless attempt to protect himself, and even though he had his eyes screwed shut he could feel Zachariah closing the distance between them... but the blow never came. 

Castiel opened his eyes. In front of him, Zachariah was standing still, and Dean was right behind him. Then the angel turned around and Castiel could see there was a blade stuck on his back, right under his neck.

“You think you can hurt me, _human_?” The word was spat out like a curse. He stretched his wings, all six of them, opening them wide in a truly terrifying display of power. “You pitiful, insignificant fool!” 

With a flick of Zachariah’s hand Dean went flying back, hitting the ground hard. Castiel tried to run toward him but Zachariah gripped him by the arm, iron fingers digging into his flesh, and Castiel, human, was trapped.

He barely had time to glimpse Sam behind Zachariah, arm outstretched with a gun in his hand, before a loud bang cracked the air and the chain around the angel’s neck snapped, sending the vial that hung from it flying off. It hit a stone and cracked, releasing the grace within. 

Castiel ran toward it. “Close your eyes! _Close your eyes!_ ” His own essence surrounded him, thick and icy. He inhaled, feeling it fill his lungs, his veins, his whole body. It hurt as much as it did when Metatron had taken it out, but this time he thrummed with pleasure at the feeling. He was whole again.

His own blade was in his hand before he had even opened his eyes. He charged toward Zachariah, who was also poised for fight. Castiel would surely die, but at least he would take the other angel with him to keep Sam and Dean safe. 

Before Castiel reached him, though, Zachariah disappeared with a pop. A cloud of small inner feathers floated in his place and the knife that had been embedded in his back fell to the ground. It didn’t look like he had flown away, Castiel thought. It looked like... 

“Well, that was anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” 

Castiel started to turn at the voice of Gabriel behind him, but his brother was already pushing Castiel’s wing out of the way and stepping into where Zachariah’s remains were still gently drifting in the air. He grabbed one of the little feathers, inspecting it. “You, little brother, have a knack for screwing up big and still coming out on top.”

Castiel had no answer to that so he looked away. His eyes fell on Dean, who was still sprawled on the ground, looking up at him with wide eyes. Castiel tucked his wings in close, emotions overwhelming him as if he were still human – fear, embarrassment, guilt, anger. He was paralyzed with them. 

“Hello,” Gabriel was saying, arm outstretched as he offered Zachariah’s feather to Sam like a gift. “I’m Gabriel. I’m guessing you might be Sam.”

 

***

 

“So you’re... angels.”

“And you’re hunters.” 

They were in the motel room, all four of them, the angels on one end and Sam and Dean on the other. Cas was looking everywhere except at Dean, and Gabriel had his eyes fixed on Sam.

Dean couldn’t believe this was happening. Angels were real? “But you look human. Almost. Except you have wings.” 

“These are vessels. Cassie’s true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler building.” 

“And yours?” Sam asked.

Gabriel smirked. “Bigger.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Then a thought struck him. “Are you the one who killed the slime monster the other day?” he asked Cas.

The angel looked at him then, blue eyes not quite as bright as Dean remembered from the incident, but still bluer than any other he had seen. “I am.”

“Are you like... my guardian angel?”

Gabriel snorted and Cas blushed, looking away. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. If you’ll let me, of course.”

Dean was struck silent in the wake of such an offer.

“I’d take him up on that if I were you, Dean-o. You and your _little_ brother might need the extra help. Mikey is obviously up to something nastier than usual and it seems you two drew the shorter sticks.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know yet, but I heard Zachadouche drop the word ‘apocalypse’ earlier.” 

“Do you intend to find out?” Sam asked, a challenge in his tone.

Gabriel winked at him. “How about we find out together?”

Dean rolled his eyes again, accidentally catching Cas’ after. The angel was looking straight at him.

This was what their lives had become. Angels. Seriously. 

It beat the hell out of slime monsters, though.


End file.
